


streaming down my eyes (i know it’s not just me)

by Bamf_babe



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, F/M, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fic, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, this is just a very soft fic in general okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe
Summary: “And yet… here we are.”orFive times Jaskier bathed Geralt and the one time Geralt returned the favor
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 27
Kudos: 189
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #001





	1. Lily of the Nile (Purity)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so first off, I LOVED this prompt and also every flower I chose to use is a flower from the prompt picture and YES I spent a lot of time googling the language of flowers....
> 
> Below is the Prompt Picture that I was given to inspire this fic! Let me know what you think about my choice.
> 
> Agapanthus otherwise know as the Lily of the Nile represents love and purity.

# 

# 1\. Lily of the Nile (Purity)

Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, apologies, the White Wolf was a complete mystery of a man. Jaskier prided himself on being able to understand people. It was quite literally his trade. A good bard could read the emotions of the room and determine the kind of song to play, the volume to play it at, and even change the words around if the content seemed to be offending any particular audience member. Jaskier was still fresh out of Oxenfurt but there were very few people he could not strike up a conversation with and charm into letting him stay the night or gain another meal. 

Then there was Geralt. Jaskier could not get him to smile or laugh or even say so much as his name in the 6 months they had been together since meeting in Posada. It was infuriating. Jaskier knew Geralt had a sense of humour. He had heard his biting words and sharp remarks commented towards others and felt the sarcasm in the Witcher’s tone. However, it was never directed alongside Jaskier and Geralt remained stone-faced throughout it all. 

There was something missing in their relationship. Jaskier hoped that soon there would be a moment when something would fall into place and their very different lifestyles might just click. Right now, they felt discordant. Jaskier was not a morning person while Geralt most certainly was. Jaskier would wake up to Geralt already having eaten and packed and have to deal with the Witcher glaring at him for a solid twenty minutes while he got ready. Geralt liked to drink alone while Jaskier preferred to spend his time in a tavern talking to other patrons. Jaskier would stay up late performing while Geralt slept upstairs. For gods sake, they didn’t even eat the same with Jaskier preferring more vegetables to Geralt’s heavy grain and meat-based diet. If only Jaskier could get Geralt to laugh or even say his name, maybe things could change. Until then, the months were becoming more and more unbearable. 

It was late at night. Normally Geralt would be upstairs, sleeping, but he had taken a contract on a grave hag which hunted mostly at night and had been out as of yet. Jaskier was almost through performing Toss a Coin, he had to make the song catch on somehow when he saw Geralt appear in the doorway of the tavern. He was wearing his worse-for-wear armor with its stitches and holes but he seemed relatively intact and he watched Geralt talk to the innkeeper for a second before heading upstairs. 

Over the course of a few songs, Jaskier watched as some barmaids brought up buckets of steaming water up to their room and assumed Geralt was taking a bath. Well, for once Jaskier was rather pleased with Geralt’s habits. Normally Geralt did not like taking libations such as fancy night-time baths and the like. He thought it was a waste of money when streams were perfectly free. Still, Jaskier did not really pay it any mind and after another short song or so he finished up and headed to their room for some sleep. 

He started when he got into the room and saw Geralt, still fully armored, looking at the steaming water of the bath. Parts of his armor were undone but Jaskier saw a large cut on his back that would likely make it extremely painful or even dangerous to take off his armor himself. If he pulled his shoulder the wrong way, the slash could open even further, and then Geralt would be in real danger. Sensing an opportunity to become closer to the enigmatic man he decided to befriend, Jaskier walked over to Geralt. 

“Looks like you need some help over here, Witcher.”

Geralt glanced up at him, scowling, as always, “I’m fine, Bard.”

“Oh, so I suppose you have to glare at the water for who knows how many minutes for amusement? I suppose Witchers have the ability to bathe themselves fully clothed and dry then.”

With a sigh, Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, as always, his golden eyes seemed to draw the bard in, and making it was just his imagination but they seemed to glow a little in the dim lighting of the room. “Alright.”

And that was it. With no more than 4 words spoken by Geralt, Jaskier began to unbuckle the complex armor and take it off Geralt. There was an awful moment when the leather seemed to stick to his skin where the blood had dried and Jaskier had to pull off skin alongside dried blood but soon Geralt was completely undressed. 

“Wait here, Witcher. We don’t want the water becoming so dirty it defeats its purpose.” Jaskier said as he fetched a rag. He dipped it into the water and began to use it to clean the blood off of Geralt’s torso. He felt the Witcher flinch when the cloth first touched his skin but as Jaskier cleaned his back off, he felt Geralt relax. When Jaskier was done he looked at the wound, it was mostly healed but would probably scar. It might not even need to be properly bandaged by tomorrow morning. The wonders of Witcher physiology never ceased to amaze Jaskier. 

For a moment they sat there on the bed of the inn. Geralt still grimy but no longer soaking in his blood, unclothed, while Jaskier stood there. Then there was a crash from downstairs and the moment was broken. Geralt stood up and went to the bath and Jaskier followed behind and once he saw Geralt about to wash his own hair he tsked in admonition. 

“Geralt,” he said. “Now I know this wound is not life-threatening but lifting up your arms above your head is just asking for trouble. Sink down and let me help.”

With a shake of his head, what a silly Witcher he had chosen, Jaskier began to clean Geralt’s hair. Again, Jaskier felt Geralt relax into his touch and he wondered about the intimacy that Witcher would share. Considering the injuries they must get, Witchers cannot really afford to be shy around eachother but lords above, Jaskier was not used to this kind of casual intimacy but from one of his lovers. Gods, Jaskier thought to himself, do not go there right now. This is a man who while he has not actively abandoned you certainly would never hold that level of fondness for you. Gather yourself Jaskier and focus on the Witcher in front of you. 

Unfortunately, Jaskier’s moment of distraction caused some the soap to go into Geralt’s eyes and the Witcher sat up rapidly. 

“Fuck, Bard!” the Witcher said, “If I wanted to cause myself more pain I wouldn’t have asked for your help.”

He dunked his hair under the water and rinsed the rest of it out. Jaskier stood up and dried off his hands with a towel. 

“Sorry Geralt,” he shouted out to he bathing Witcher behind him, “Lots of thoughts floating around the old brain, brief distraction, you must understand the feeling.”

Geralt merely hummed and Jaskier threw a towel behind him as he heard Geralt getting up out of the bath a few minutes later. The Witcher caught it, because, why wouldn’t he and Jaskier sank onto one of the twin beds in the room as Geralt went towards the other one. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to Jaskier, “Wait, do we need to disinfect that wound? Getting an infection cannot be good for a man like yourself who goes stomping through swamps.”

“No, I took a potion.”

“Really?” Jaskier perked up, “What kind of potion?”

Jaskier felt more than saw Geralt shrug, “It’s called Golden Oriole and no, humans would die due to the toxic ingredients found in the potion.”

“Oh, well I am glad you will be hale and healthy even if you carry around poison on your person at all times apparently.”

“Poison to you perhaps.”

“You never want to poison the most important person in your party Geralt. What you ever do without me?”

“Listen to the peace and quiet.”

Jaskier put his hand to his chest, uncaring of whether or not Geralt could make out the gesture. “Now that hurts Geralt, cuts really deep.”

Geralt hmmmed and Jaskier assumed that was the end of the conversation. As he pulled the blankets over himself and closed his eyes to sleep he heard Geralt say one last thing. 

“Thank you for the help tonight Jaskier.”

Jaskier did not respond but he felt a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest as Geralt said his name for the first time and knew that one way or another they would make this thing between them work. This new, pure thing they had forming between them could change into something strong.

  
  



	2. Chamomile (Action)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chamomile. Though a symbol of rest and relaxation today (think: chamomile tea), this flower signified "energy in adversity" and taking action when it is not expected of you.

#  2\. Chamomile (Action)

Geralt had decided in all his infinite glory to take on a drowner’s nest alone and wearing only a shirt and pants instead of armor because gods only know how stupid that man is when Jaskier is not around. Just a few weeks earlier Jaskier had gotten news than the White Wolf and been seen in a small town near the Brokilon forest and Jaskier headed that way, excited to reunite with his friend once more. Normally they would travel together through the early Spring to the Late Fall. The two of them would winter separately, Jaskier jumping from court to court and Geralt heading to wherever Witcher hibernated in the Winter. One day Jaskier would get it out of him. 

However, this Spring they did not discuss where they would be meeting so Jaskier relied on word of mouth and that pointed Jaskier towards a small village. The only issue was he arrived to hear about the Witcher having run off into the forest to fight a nest of drowners. Jaskier was at first unconcerned. He headed towards the Tavern he was told Geralt was staying at and was directed to his room and Jaskier was hoping to catch a light nap before he met up with his wolf. However, once he got to the room he realized that all of Geralt’s armor was still in the room. 

This meant that the absolute idiot had gone off for who knows what reason to fight drowners while terribly clothed. This is why Jaskier had been bugging Geralt for where he went during the winter. He could not leave the man alone or he went off on these stupid missions with absolutely terrible preparation. 

He resigned himself to the loss of his hoped-for nap and instead went and followed through with the standard process of ‘where is Geralt?’. He talked to the tavernkeeper who honestly couldn’t be fucked and then the barmaids who were much more observant but also less likely to give out information. He managed to convince a young girl Gwen to tell him that Geralt had been hired by the woodsman who was losing out on jobs due to the nest. 

Then, Jaskier headed across the way to the woodsman’s house on the edge of town, and then he had to go through the arduous process of “Hello, how are you?” with the woodsman and his wife and then get the location of the drowner nest from them. 

With an hour wasted on conversations he wouldn’t have needed if Geralt had just been a bit slower to through himself into every dangerous situation he could find, Jaskier found himself at the edge of the woods on a gravelly road. 

Through the fog, he caught sight of Roach, the beautiful horse that she is and walked over to her.

“Hello, you gorgeous girl,” he said. Jaskier tried to look through the fog and find Geralt but alas, there was no such luck. He sighed in consternation and tried to look around but was unable to find any sign of the man. 

“Where on earth is your rider?” He asked Roach. 

Then, off to his right in the swap, he heard an awful screeching noise and then a slorp. Ah yes, knew that slorp sound all too well. Looks like Geralt was wrapping up. Jaskier began digging into Geralt’s side bag, looking for the right potions. He dug out a swallow, a kiss, and some golden oriole. Those were just the right potions for taking out a drowner’s nest, again, without armor. Swallow for regeneration, kiss to staunch any bleeding and golden oriole just in case the bastard got himself bit. He had just laid out the three potions when he began to make out Geralt’s shape through the fog. 

The man was trudging through the thick swamp holding a king drowner’s head aloft. His legs were sinking up to his knees everytime he took a step and he looked exhausted. He was covered in the usual grime and his hair hung about his covered in streaks of mud. Jaskier sighed. He had his work cut out for him. 

When Geralt caught sight of him he looked first cautious but then his face relaxed once he saw it was Jaskier. Now, the bard would never go so far as to say that Geralt smiled at him, but his lips definitely turned up and his eyes softened as he reached roach. 

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Jaskier said before Geralt could even so much as grunt. 

Jaskier glared into the black eyes of the other man, although he could already see them beginning to fade back to yellow. 

He took the drowner head from Geralt, almost dropping it from the weight and goddamn it, he already knew Geralt was stronger than the average man but he made this look as light as a feather compared to the rock it. Jaskier tied the head to Roach and then circled around Geralt. 

“Where’s the worst of it? Don’t think I don’t see how spectacularly injured you are right now.”

Geralt glared at Jaskier before speaking, “I have some bite marks on my...legs, that’s about it but considering the trek to and from the fucking nest I look a lot worst than I feel.”

It was a testament to how exhausted Geralt must be that he answered the question without complaint. Jaskier handed Geralt the Oriole and the Swallow. “Drink and get on Roach, we are heading back to the Inn. Don’t worry I got the innkeeper to prepare you a bath already.”

Geralt drank the potions in quick succession and swung up onto Roach but winced as he sat on the horse. Jaskier grimaced, the bites must be on his thighs but unfortunately, this was a better option than him walking and Geralt would rather die before Jaskier could convince him to lay down across Roach like some kind of hunted deer. 

“Do not think I am not about to discuss exactly why you fucked off into the fog to take on a drowner’s nest in no armor and hoping for the best I assume. Gods, I am gone for one Winter and you get into your head ideas of invulnerability.”

Geralt stayed silent and Jaskier felt himself fuming. 

“Well, explain yourself Geralt.”

Characteristically, Geralt sighed before giving in the Jaskier’s questions, “The swamp is particularly deep. I couldn’t have maneuvered in the armor fast enough to take on multiple opponents at once.”

Jaskier grit his teeth at this perfectly reasonable answer. Damnnit Geralt always found a way to put himself in danger yet make it look like the best possible action at the time. 

“And I suppose you were planning on trudging back to the village in pain and having absolutely no one help you? How much did the man offer you to kill an entire nest? I sure hope it was worth it.”

Geralt mumbled a number. Jaskier coughed. Geralt spoke up, “70 Ducats.”

Jaskier wanted to bury his head in his hands but as it was he was busy leading Roach back to the village by her reigns as Geralt sat still on her back. 

“In other words, you did this practically for free. Please, Geralt, don’t tell me the woodsman told you about his life story and the worry for his business in the woods and offered up 70 Ducats as all he had left and you being the stupidly noble man you are took it.”

Geralt stayed silent which Jaskier took as an admission of guilt. Oh, this Witcher, he liked to pretend he was above the affairs of man but the second there was an affair in his near vicinity he took to it like fire to a dry leaf. 

They rode together with Jaskier giving a commentary on his Winter while Geralt again stayed silent on his own and they made it to the tavern where there was a full bathtub waiting. The water was cool but a quick Igni took care of that and Geralt wiped most of the blood off before sinking into the warm water. Jaskier did not get a chance to see the marks on Geralt’s legs yet but assumed that they were no longer bleeding. Jaskier called up one of the innkeeper’s sons to dispose of the bloody towels before looking over the Geralt. 

“I am going to earn the coin we need to stay here for a few hours. When I come back I will be checking on your wounds so do not even attempt to hide them from me.”

When Jaskier came back Geralt was laying on the one bed in the room, sheets wrapped around his waist. 

“Alright, Witcher,” Jaskier said, “Let’s see how much damage you have done to yourself today.”

“It’s not much Jaskier,” Geralt responded, “They were not that deep.”

“See, Geralt, last time you said that I found blood on the sheets from a cut that ended up needing stitches because you kept pulling it open. Granted, I know you will live but I would really rather you live well. Who else could I use as a muse?”

Geralt hmmed before taking off the sheet and laying on his stomach. Jaskier couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. 

“Oh this is too good,” he said, “No wonder you were so hesitant to let me help. Without your armor, you were bitten by a drowner, on your arse!”

“Fuck off.” Geralt responded quickly. 

“Apologies, oh mighty lord of Rivia, The White World, a man who will now have a scar on his arse in the shape of teeth.”

Geralt let off a dangerous growl but Jaskier kept pushing. 

“I cannot wait for you to explain this to your next lover. Well, who knows, maybe it will just be letting them know what you are into.”

The growls grew just a bit louder and Jaskier sighed, giving up the joke for a moment. 

“Well, alright, I have a chamomile paste I use to help along with any scars I’ve gained. I am sure it will work for you. Just give me a moment.”

Jaskier rummaged through his pack until he found the paste and held it aloft with a triumphant noise. 

“Here we go. Now apologies Geralt but I will have to get rather close to your glorious ass here. Promise I will not do any damage.”

Geralt put his hands under to head and looked over at Jaskier. 

“Be careful, I’ve had many good people tell me it’s my best feature.”

He smirked a little as he said it and Jaskier may or may not have choked a little at the image of a naked Geralt of Rivia smirking on his bed.

“Lords, Geralt, did you just make a funny? Is the world ending, or am I rubbing off on you?”

“We all know it cannot be the former, so I would check for blood falling from the sky.”

Jaskier laughed and began the task of quite literally rubbing chamomile in Geralt’s buttocks. Wonderful. They held a steady back and forth conversation as he went and it was moments like these when Jaskier liked being around Geralt the most. The moment when he let down his guard just a bit and they quipped back and forth. 

Geralt was alone for so long he didn’t quite realize what it was like to ask for help or receive it without ever having asked. Well, as long as Jaskier could he would always take action to help Geralt out when he could.

  
  



	3. Lavender (Devotion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavender flowers are known to represent purity, silence, devotion serenity, grace and calmness. In addition to the flower's significance, its purple color also comes with great symbolism. Purple is the color of royalty and speaks of elegance, refinement and luxury, and perhaps, even of Banquets, Bastards and Burials.

#  3\. Lavender (Devotion)

Jaskier slid an ale over to Geralt, watching the man dripping in Selkimore guts rarely. He had been in a terrible mood for days and now as an awful time to ask for a favour, but well, Jaskier had his career to think about.

“And now, Witcher, it’s time to repay your debt. What debt? you’re probably asking yourself in your head right now. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I’m asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.”

Geralt, expectedly, glared as Jaskier. The last thing he would want to do was a favour, but well, needs must. “Fuck off, bard.”

And oh boy, they weren’t even reaching 5 words a sentence. This would require his particular brand of fanciful speech. 

Jaskier grinned at Geralt, “For one measly night of service you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of- “

Geralt had clearly had enough and headed up to the room where some workers had been bustling towards, clearly filling up a bath that every patron in the bar was interested in him getting into. Shockingly, Selkimore guts reeked. 

Jaskier hurried after him, “Fuck! Food, women, and wine, Geralt.”

The Witcher stopped and rolled his eyes before continuing on. Jaskier smirked, got him. 

When they arrived in the room Jaskier grabbed a few clothes and immediately began to wet them as Geralt quite literally peeled the clothes off his body. They fell to the floor with a disgusting squishing noise. Jaskier threw a wet towel at Geralt and held onto one himself.

“Hurry up,” Jaskier said as he began to wipe down Geralt’s back, “We are on a time crunch tonight.”

Geralt, the bastard, took his time and slid into the bath at his own leisurely pace once the worst of the lot was wiped down. This was definitely Geralt’s way of pre-protesting what Jaskier had planned for him. 

He had just handed the soap to Geralt who had started to wash his hair when Geralt asked, “So, what is it that we are doing tonight.”

“Not what, but who,” Jaskier said, attempting an air of mystery.

Geralt groaned, “This better not be like that night in Toussaint. I have no desire to end up hiding in a cupboard cuckolding while you attempt to seduce your way out of a prison sentence.”

Jaskier blustered, “First off, RUDE, it was not an attempt and was successful and I did not ask you to be there. Second, I was asked to play at Queen Calanthe’s daughter’s banquet tonight and this is just what the career of the great bard Jaskier needs right now.”

He contacted this statement by pouring a pitcher of water over Geralt’s head, hoping to completely eradicate the Selkimore guts. Geralt groaned, whether at the comment or the water Jaskier didn’t know.

Jaskier moved around the edge of the bathe and said, “Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?”

Geralt glared, “I’m not your friend.”

Jaskier laughed, “Oh. Oh, really? Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?”

Geralt glared, again, and Jaskier smirked, knowing he had the upper hand, “Yeah, well, yeah, exactly. That’s what I thought. Every lord, knight, and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance!”

Jaskier threw a handful of bath salts at Geralt and watched as his eyebrow twitched just the slightest bit. In many ways, Jaskier supposed he was lucky Geralt had only brought up the Toussaint incident.

With a grimace, Geralt looked over at Jaskier, “How many of these lords want to kill you?”

Jaskier shrugged and walked around the bath, “Hard to say. One stops keeping count after a while. Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes.” 

On the word mother, Geralt frowned and Jaskier remembered a particular lovely concubine of Queen Eritrea, the wonderful positions he could bend himself into. What a glorious night that was. 

He brought himself back into the moment to see Geralt continuing to frown at him and now perhaps it was at his silence. 

Jaskier leaned in, “Ooh, yeah, that face! Ohh! Scary face! No lord in his right mind will come close if you’re standing next to me with a puss like that.” 

Geralt reached for the Ale, but Jaskier snatched it away just as quickly. 

“Ohh, on second thoughts… might wanna lay off the Cintran ale. A clear head would be best.”

Geralt growled at this, actually growled and Jaskier placed his hand on his chest, slightly offended. 

Geralt remembered words existed and spoke, “I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry. I’m not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men.”

With that little speech, Jaskier rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time. Uhg. Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous? Actually, I’ve always wanted to know, do witchers ever retire?”

Geralt glared even harder, attempting to practically set Jaskier on fire, “Yeah. When they slow and get killed.”

Jaskier grinned, trying to lighten Geralt’s spirits and make sure he would come along with his to the banquet, “Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this… monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

Geralt’s face turned down and softened, “I want nothing,” he said in a smaller voice.

“Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you.”

Geralt looked almost sad at this, “I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me.”

Jaskier leaned down over to Geralt and rested his hands on the edge of the bath. He softened his voice as he said, “And yet… here we are.”

And here they were. At the end of the day, they may bicker and fight but their devotion always led them back to each other. They knew the ins and outs of each other’s characters and after nearly a decade together fit well. They were two parts of a whole and no matter how much Geralt may bluster, he knew that he needed Jaskier as Jaskier needed him. They completed each other’s stories. 

Jaskier stood up and the moment was gone. Geralt shook his head, looked around, and asked, “Hm. Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?”

This would need to be handled carefully, “Ah. Well, uh, they were sort of covered in selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway, you’re not going tonight as a witcher.”

Geralt sent him a look that promised pain. Jaskier gave him a sunny smile in return.

  
  



	4. Calendula (Passion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calendula has been a symbol of sunshine and fire for many centuries. In India, calendula flowers were traditionally included in wedding bouquets and decorations to symbolize passion and creativity or fertility for the new couple.

#  4\. Calendula (Passion)

Yennefer of Vengerberg was a blight upon Jaskier’s life. Whenever Geralt and himself ran into her it was as if he faded into the background altogether. There was something intoxicating about her presence that Geralt could never pull himself away from. Jaskier would watch it happen. 

The two of them would be passing through a town, on the way to rumors of a job, or even heading somewhere to find real food and there she would be. It was as if something always pulled her towards them, inevitably, like a tide slowly pulling them out to sea. 

Yennefer would entice Geralt’s attention and the two of them would be off together. They would adventure, talk, and fuck long into the night. There was always a town that needed saving or a particularly difficult cursed object to find and the two of them would work together perfectly to complete their goal. It was as if destiny wrote them little stories to follow, little missions to complete to draw them ever closer. As for Jaskier, well, he was there to help. A song here to entice a pretty girl into giving information or standing quietly off to the side and hearing just the right thing at the right time. 

And Jaskier would never be alone in these adventures, oh no, Yennefer always had company around her. Sometimes it was another mage, other times a valet or some other type of servant. One memorable time Yennefer had brought along a Unicorn and Jaskier spent three days keeping it fed and watered. He was lucky she found him pure of soul, if certainly not of the body. 

To be fair, Jaskier did not ever think he could truly hate Yennefer of Vengerberg. Her smart tongue and quick wit gave even Jaskier a run for his money and sometimes when Geralt would fall asleep the two of them would stay up late long into the night together.

“People are beautiful.” Jaskier would say, in a softer voice than he ever used in public. He sounded almost wistful. 

“People,” Yennefer would say, in a quiet but bitter tone, “are cruel.”

“They can be,” Jaskier would agree. “But I have hope that they can change if we only give them the opportunity.”

Yennefer would scoff, “Your hope is weak, where can it come from? There is often one good person for every ten bad. Even then, that light always gets snuffed out.”

Jaskier would grab her hand and look into the dying embers of the fire. He would look over at Geralt sleeping just a few feet away. He would look at the stars in the night sky and wonder what exactly could make lights so bright but yet so invisible in the day. 

“What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.”

Yennefer would get a look in her eyes like she was remembering a past from long ago and for a while, she would be quiet. 

Then after a long time, she would look Jaskier in the eyes and ask, “How do you know if you are better? How do you know you aren’t just moving backward faster and faster? How do we make the right choice.”

Jaskier’s smile would waver, “I don’t really know,” he’d confess.

Yennefer’s face would darken, “Then what help is this conversation, what point is there to this endless debate?”

“Sometimes when you’re feeling helpless, the secret is to help someone else. Get out of your own head. Next time someone asks for help, say, Yes.”

They would sit together side by side, unnaturally quiet for both of their personalities, and simply think. 

No, Jaskier could never hate Yennefer of Vengerberg. Not when he so often saw the worry, fear, and doubt casting onto her face when she thought no one was looking. Not when he knew what her eyes looked like when they were close to tears. Sometimes they all fell asleep together in the woods when Yennefer joined them. However, she was always gone when they woke up, or sometimes they left first. No one ever stayed. It felt safer that way. 

Still, the bickering between Yennefer and Jaskier never stopped them from their main goal of protecting Geralt. There was a fierce passion that burned like sunshine and hurt like fire. That passion could be directed at Geralt, at themselves, at each other. Whatever form it took, when the three of them were together it felt like burning. 

One time, Yennefer joined them on the road to Belmont. She met them at a fork in the road and they found they were going the same way. There was a manticore near the desert that Geralt wanted to take care of for some lord or another. Yennefer said she had business in the southern continent but could put off her work for a few days and in return, she could take some of the manticore venom for herself. Geralt, of course, agreed immediately. 

“Hello bard,” she said, smile biting and sharp, “green doublet? Interesting choice, have you lost any sense of fashion since I’ve seen you last?”

“Now, witch,” Jaskier replied, “if you are  _ green _ with envy you ought to have simply said so.”

Geralt scoffed at the two of them and the hunt continued as normal. The three of them bickered, hunted, and traveled and then they reached the manticore. That’s when everything went tits up. 

The Witcher killed the manticore, of course he did. However, the tail struck Geralt in its death throes and now the Witchers were sporting a terrible fever and no potion was bringing it down. Jaskier and Yennefer were frantic and were trying desperately to find a way to bring the fever down. 

“We have to cool him down!” Jaskier yelled as they carried a feverish Geralt towards a river.

His heavy body hung limp between them and his entire body was covered in sweat and grime. They struggled with his dead weight but eventually got him to the river. The water was not nearly cold enough. 

Yennefer kneeled on the banks of the river and began to chant, slowly but steadily and Jaskier for a second could have sworn he saw his breath crystallize in the air and then the very air itself changed becoming colder and when Jaskier touched the river it was almost icy cold. 

After the spell, Yennefer slumped down a little exhausted and Jaskier helped her lie down to the ground.

“Don’t go dying or fainting on me now Yennefer,” Jaskier said, “Geralt would be terribly disappointed.”

“Oh, but I am sure you would be glad,” she replied.

“I don’t know for sure,” Jaskier said with a weak smile, “It scares me a little to think of you ruling the denizens of the underworld already, for you would surely overtake that land in a matter of days.”

Yennefer sat near a tree while Jaskier brought Geralt into the water. This was like a bastardization of their bathing rituals. Jaskier cupping Geralt’s face as freezing water rushed over him and watching Geralt panting, his body trying desperately to push poison out of his system. 

He ran his hands through Geralt’s hair in mimicry of washing it and he felt his limbs grow numb. When Jaskier could no longer feel his limbs he felt Yennefer tap his shoulder. 

“I can take your place now,” she said, “I cannot have you dying of hypothermia, please dry off Jaskier.”

She sounded almost kind and Jaskier felt himself lean up against the same tree Yennefer was leaning against earlier and before he knew it he had fallen asleep. 

When Jaskier woke up the day had turned into night and Yennefer sat next to an unconscious Geralt on the riverbed. They were out of the water. 

“Is he alright?” Jaskier asked.

“The fever broke, but I do not know when he will wake up.”

Jaskier was relieved, “We should head back to Roach and make camp then. I’m sure he will be hungry when he wakes up.”

Jaskier slung the unconscious Geralt over his shoulders and carried him to the portal Yennefer had summoned and suddenly found himself being accosted by Roach. 

“Don’t worry girl, I got him.”

He looked over at Yennefer, already preparing a fire and thought about how it burned to be with her but it burned Geralt more to be away and he looked back at Roach.

“ _ We  _ got him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reference to another AMAZING show here if anyone cares to find it.


	5. Petunia (Resentment)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The petunia flower symbolizes anger and resentment especially when they are presented by someone with whom you have recently had a heated disagreement.

#  5\. Petunia (Resentment)

It was a simmering kind of pain. It never fully left but it never fully consumed him. He could function just fine and found himself traveling the same way he did before, teaching classes the way he did before. But sometimes, there would be just the catch of light on a silver spoon or a glint of golden jewelry and the pain would come washing back. 

Jaskier knew he would never live as long as most of his bedfellows and had even hoped to go out with a bang, adventuring. Never had he thought it might happen alone. Never had Jaskier thought that after over twenty years he would be left with nothing but the burning, angry resentment that he had no control over and nothing left to do with. 

Jaskier was not sad, not disappointed. He was bitter, resentful, and angry. He gave and gave and gave and never received that level of respect in return. He spent so much time with Geralt and understood his actions took the place of his words. Geralt would go out of his way to perform a kind gesture or a silent agreement, but what he said on the mountain could never be taken back. 

Well, if Geralt wanted his blessing he could have it. Jaskier would not go looking for the White Wolf. It did not matter what Nilfgaardian rumors he heard on the wind or the searches for the Princess of Cintra. Jaskier would stay far away and leave Geralt to fight his own battles. 

What a shame the battles had to come and find him instead. 

Yennefer of Vengerberg portaled in his office while he was grading papers and landed in a literally burning heap on his floor. With the reflexes of a man used to chasing after literally Inhumans, he smothered the flames out of her clothes. After the fire was put out he looked her over, she looked, well she looked as radiant as always but unharmed. 

As Jaskier looked down on her, Yennefer's eyes opened and she suddenly clutched his hands. It was as if her violet eyes were looking right through him. 

“He found her. The girl in the woods.”

Then she passed out. Helpful. Jaskier lifted Yennefer up and carried her to the adjoining rooms of the office. He laid her down on his bed and grabbed a cloth with cold water and placed it on her forehead. A few minutes later she came to again and this time her eyes met his own. 

“Jaskier,” she said.

“Hello Yenn,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes in the way it hadn’t in months.

“I need to-I need to help Geralt, his child-surprise, they are being--”

She tried to stand up but her legs were still a bit wobbling and Jaskier for once was the stronger of the two and held her steady. 

“Yennefer, how about we have something to drink and talk about what’s happening. Then maybe we can find...Geralt.”

Even the name tasted like ash on his tongue. Jaskier quickly prepared some tea and brought it over to Yennefer who drank it as she recounted her tale of Nilfgaard attacking Cintra and Princess Cirilla being lost. She talked about the battle of Sodden Hill and how her Chaos consumed her and as she portaled away to the first safe place she could think of she had a vision of Geralt finding his child surprise.

“Jaskier they are in grave danger,” Yennefer finished. “The entire Nilfgaadrian army is after them and Princess Cirilla has wild magic. She needs someone to teach her and I’m worried Geralt won’t be able to protect her much longer.”

Jaskier stood up and began angrily pacing the room. “I don’t know what help you think I can be Yennefer. When he left you on that mountain he left me too. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Yennefer mirrored his actions, holding out her arm and stopping him in his tracks, “How about instead of thinking about what an ass Geralt is we instead think about saving this young girl’s life? I need an object of Geralt’s, something I can track him. We can portal to his location and try and save Princess Cirilla.”

Jaskier ran his hands through his hair and sighed before going to the cupboard and fetching an old shirt. Sometimes their clothes got mixed up and they were similar enough in size Jaskier never bothers giving this shirt back. It was, as one would expect, black. 

Yennefer nodded before chanting over the piece of fabric and suddenly a portal opened right in front of them. 

“Bard!” she shouted, “Do you have a weapon with you? We might be going into a fight.”

Jaskier nodded gravely before grabbing the broadsword he kept next to his bed. He was by no means a master swordsman but after traveling with a Witcher for two decades, he was passable. As he walked through the portal alongside Yennefer he realized he never let the Dean know he was leaving. Ah well, the man ought to expect this given his reputation. 

They did walk out into a fight. Several Nilfgaardian soldiers surrounded Geralt and Cirilla was perched on top of Roach. Geralt was good but there was little to be done when you were simply outnumbered. 

Then he looked over and saw Yennefer and Jaskier and his mouth dropped open in shock. Then, while he was off his guard, a soldier sliced him across his back and Geralt fell down with a cry. 

Yennefer gave a cry of fury and began to take down man after man with her magic. Jaskier meanwhile had moved over to Ciri and Geralt and was holding off a soldier while trying to stay focused on the other two. The soldier was good, but not fantastic and Jaskier managed to get a good cut on the femoral artery, and the man fell down, bleeding out. Yennefer appeared at his side, having taken down even another soldier. 

“We have to leave,” she said, “Geralt is injured and more soldiers will be here any minute. If Fringilla is here she can try to follow us but if I take you to a warded location she won’t be able to.”

She opened another portal and Jaskier turned towards the Princess.

“Now Princess,” Jaskier said, “I am going to need you to come with us. My name is Jaskier, that is the mage Yennefer we are,” he took a breath, “friends of Geralt and will do you no harm.”

Cirilla looked weary and tired. Still, she had a fierceness in her eyes that he would expect of the lioness of Cintra. 

“I will go with you,” she finally said, “But please call me Ciri.”

At this point Geralt stood up and Jaskier against his better judgment let Geralt lean on him while they walked through the portal into Yennefer’s home. Still, Jaskier refused to look at the man and only gave him the most basic courtesy due to his injury. When they came into the foyer, Yennefer looked Geralt up and down and with a shake of her head looked towards the Princess. 

“Cirilla,” she started, “My name is Yennefer and while Geralt gets his wounds taken care of I can take you to a nice room to stay in, maybe even have a bath later, how does that sound?”

Ciri smiled and for a moment Jaskier could see the child she was before she moved towards Yennefer who had already summoned a servant to take Roach to the stables. Yennefer gave a cool look at Geralt.

“There are potions for you in your rooms. I’m sure you remember the way.” With that, she turned around and led Ciri away.

Jaskier was left with Geralt who was oddly silent, well, more silent than normal. He still held up half the Witcher’s bulk on his own body. He began to walk towards the rooms. 

“Let’s get you fixed up.” Jaskier said brusquely, “I don’t want to shovel any more shit onto you.”

He felt Geralt flinch. Good. In the rooms Geralt took Swallow and the wound was already looking better. Gods was Geralt covered in grime. Geralt moved to take the shirt off but didn’t have the full range of motion of his arm back and couldn’t lift it high enough. Jaskier sighed and without saying anything helped Geralt take off his shirt. 

“I imagine you want to bathe,” Jaskier said, motioning towards the adjoining baths. Geralt looked at Jaskier for a long moment and Jaskier couldn’t help but look back. Jaskier had no idea what Geralt was thinking but before he could say anything Geralt got up quietly and headed towards the bath. 

Jaskier lingered behind him, not quite sure what to do. Geralt sunk into the water and Jaskier was reminded of the first time they conducted this little ritual and Geralt was injured in a similar way. In fact, Jaskier could see the scar across his left scapula. 

Geralt must have known Jaskier was still there, or maybe he wanted to simply speak because he started talking.

“I was sorry the moment I said it. I was angry, embittered and well, you know me by now. I had taken a lot of pain that day and I pushed it right back at the only person who had never taken from me. I thought that I deserved to had everything stolen from me at that moment, you included. But even at that lowest moment, you were somehow still there. I had to make you leave, to punish myself because in that moment I hated myself more than anything. But it wasn’t fair. I shovel my own shit and honestly, you have saved my life more times than I have yours in many ways.”

By this point, Jaskier had made his way around the bath and was now facing Geralt. He bent down as he did so long ago in that tavern in Cintra. He put his arms on the edges of the tub and looked at Geralt, who Jaskier noticed, had wide, vulnerable eyes. 

“Is this an apology Geralt?” Jaskier asked, looking right into his eyes. He felt the resentment tighten in his chest in anticipation of heartbreak once more. 

“Fuck,” Geralt said, his head moving the side, “Yes, It’s an apology Jaskier.” He said his name the same way he always had, sharp and sudden. It felt right, it felt normal again. Jaskier felt that resentment lingering in his chest let go and maybe just maybe he could begin to heal again. There was a lot of work left to do but Geralt had just taken the first step. 

“Well,” Jaskier said, “perhaps I can help you finish bathing and we can talk more about this wonderful new thing you’ve discovered called empathy.”

Geralt sighed, taking Jaskier’s joke as the bridge it was and they fell back into the routine. It felt a little different but the same simultaneously and it was a comfort. 

“You know,” Geralt said, “Ciri is going to need Yennefer to teach her magic. We are going to have to protect her.”

“I know.”

“What I mean to say is-” Geralt paused, unsure, “I would like you to stay here, with Ciri, with us, with me.”

Jaskier smiled and he knew then, he just knew things would be okay. “Oh Geralt,” he said, “I am so glad you asked.”

  
  



	6. +1 Red Chrysanthemum (Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The color of the flower can also affect the meaning behind the chrysanthemum. A red chrysanthemum from someone, it is a symbol of love. Of undying and breathless love.

# +1. Red Chrysanthemum (Love)

Julian Alfred Pankratz, apologies, Jaskier the Bard, was a complete mystery of a man. Geralt of Rivia often found himself both stunned and lost when trying to figure out why Jaskier was so loyal, brave, and unselfish when he had every opportunity to do more. He could be a famous bard wandering the continent yet instead here he was on the run with their small family from Nilfgaard. How could Geralt have ever found someone so truly kind? How could he deserve this kind of goodness in his life?

No, he had to accept these people, these relationships into his life. Gaining Ciri had been a marked change in him. Geralt was growing less jaded, more open, he smiled more often and tried to even voice his emotions on occasion. With the help of his daughter, he was trying to be better. Life was not a puzzle to solve but rather a new challenge every day and with the help of his family, he would solve that daily challenge. 

Currently, they were in a coastal town. Yennefer’s wards didn’t hold forever so instead the group of four traveled. They stayed in small towns where Nilfgaard wasn’t stationed and went from place to place all the while teaching Ciri magic and defense. In a few more months there would likely try and head to Kaer Morhen where Ciri would be completely protected. He could introduce them to his brothers and any other Witchers who stayed at the keep. 

Geralt was sitting on a small rock next to the ocean and watching the tides go in and out. It was soothing, comforting. Yennefer and Jaskier had taken Ciri to the market where they were holding some kind of festival. He heard footsteps on the sand walking towards him and saw Jaskier nearby. He was covered head to toe in colorful powders. Yellow powder covered his face and hair, marking him as his namesake while colors of orange, red, green, pink, and purple dotted along his body. Geralt let out a laugh as the bard approached him. 

“Lo Geralt! Ciri and Yenn are still at the festival but I wanted to ask again if you wanted to come along. It’s so...well, colorful.”

In the light of the setting sun, Jaskier seemed to almost glow next to the ocean. Geralt stood up and put his arm around Jaskier. 

“If this,” he gestured at Jaskier’s body, “I what I would have in store I would rather eat a pig’s anus.”

Jaskier grimaced and then laughed, “Well then we really ought to stay here, that sounds revolting.”

He looked down at himself, “Though how on Earth I am supposed to get this powder off me is anyone’s guess.”

Geralt looked at the ocean than at Jaskier and both seemingly realized what was going to happen at the same time. Jaskier gave a yelp and tried to run in the opposite direction but Geralt was a Witcher. He picked up Jaskier and ran right into the freezing Ocean, dumping the Bard into the water once they were about waist deep. 

Jaskier came up out of the water spluttering with the powder dripping off of him. Some of it was dripping into his eyes so Geralt reached out and said, “Jaskier, once moment, close your eyes.”

He did and Geralt used the ocean water to rinse the powder off of Jaskier’s hair and face, leaving it clean if a little salty. 

“You can open them now,” Geralt said.

Jaskier opened his eyes, tearing up a little as he blinked the salt out of them, “Geralt, you great brute, you do realize I am going to have to bathe all over again to get all this salt out.”

He looked him in the eye, challenging and Geralt realized that at this moment, staring into Jaskier 's eyes, taking a bath in the sea that he did have love. Geralt had love in all the ways that mattered and it was beautiful. 

“I will help you bathe then too,” Geralt said, holding Jaskier’s hand in the cold ocean waters. 

Jaskier smiled, a soft smile and one Geralt saw more often as they tried to relearn each other and grow together. They had a family now, and it wasn’t perfect and Geralt and Yennefer were nowhere near as close to mending their relationship as Geralt and Jaskier but they were a family. This is his family. He made it, all on his own. It's little, and broken, but still good.

Yes, Geralt thought, looking at the way the ocean reflected the blue of Jaskier’s eyes. 

Good.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> How did I manage to write an entire fic about bathing but not even ONE kiss?? What a mystery.


End file.
